


You Worry Too Much

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Cybertron Realized, Transformers: More than Meets the Eye
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Robot Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Prime knows many things: how to lead, how to listen, how to plan, how to prepare...<br/>A /Rodimus/ Prime knows how to do all this, plus how to relax the universe's most uptight enforcer... Ultra Magnus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Worry Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Robot smut for the sake of robot smut. Sticky, oral, enjoy.

“Re-lax, Magnus.” Rodimus sighed, hands on his hips as he regarded his Second In Command. “You worry too much.”

“I think,given the fact that you never seem to worry about anything… ever… that I worry just the right amount for the both of us.” Magnus retorted, almost waving the datapad in his hand in frustration. How Rodimus was not beside himself with concern over their fuel usage was beyond the once-Enforcer.

Rodimus tilted his helm to one side. The Captain’s room was quiet save the venting of stressed air from Magnus. A slow smirk grew like a wild-fire over Rodimus’ lips.

“You know I could… do things to help relax you?”

“I… I hardly think this is the time or place for that!” Magnus stuttered, clutching the datapad in shock. He jerked backwards at the look he received as answer.

“It’s /always/ the time and place for that. You know how many times Optimus and Elita did this while he was on duty?” Rodimus leaned forward, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I… what!? No! No and you should not either.” Magnus put his back to the young Prime and returned his attention to the datapad. He was unable to do so. “A-and that is none of your business. I find it highly unlikely that Optimus Prime would have engaged in such… activities while on duty.”

“It’s not that unlikely, big guy. You remember that day he called us all in to talk about the Galvatron problem?” Rodimus took a few slow steps towards the much larger mech as he talked. “Elita wasn’t absent. She was under his desk. ‘s why he couldn’t seem to get a word out.”

“No, no, no. I am not listening to this.” Magnus tilted his helm up to look at the ceiling. “Do not tell me anymore.” Magnus started a little as he felt Rodimus’ hand on his waist. He turned, lifting his arm slightly in order to get a look at the Captain—currently radiating smugness as he smiled up at Magnus.

“Fine, less talking, more doing. Open up for me.” Rodimus lifted his optic ridges and reached out to take the datapad from Ultra Magnus. Magnus reached for it, face flushed with hot energon at Rodimus’ bluntness.

“Rodimus this is highly inappropriate.”

“Magnus, I’ll make this an order, you know I will. It’s not inappropriate, we’re in my quarters. Nobody would dare come in here without permission except Drift and this is his off shift.”

“An order!? You can not order me to relax! That is essentially impossible… not to mention an abuse of power.” Magnus watched ruefully as Rodimus moved away and set the datapad on a desk. He crossed his arms over his broad chest as the young Prime turned to look at him.

“You are the only mech ever to have existed to claim an order for oral stimulation was an abuse of power.” Rodimus lifted an optic ridge curiously. “What if I ask nice?” He took a small step forward, grinning up at Ultra Magnus with his blue optics flickering brightly. “Ple~ase?”

“I…” Magnus frowned down at Rodimus’ upturned and hopeful face. He felt his engines try and resist the look, the promise of what was being offered even though his processor screamed and raged about unfinished reports and past-due reviews. He was, however losing his resolve.

Rodimus brightened, his whole frame lifting as he watched Magnus’ shoulder stacks droop lightly. He knew he had won. Now he just needed to hear it.

“Will my compliance stop you from pestering me afterwards so that I can finally get some work done?”

“Yes!” Rodimus barked. He stepped forward and put a hand on Magnus’ forearm. “Sigma if you can work /during/ be my guest. Not that you’ll be able to.” He glanced over his shoulder to the desk. He looked back at Magnus and nodded towards the large chair behind him.

“I do not need to…” Magnus sighed. “Working will not be necessary, but if it will stop all this talking about interfacing and… Optimus, fine. Do what you wish.” He tilted his helm as Rodimus fairly danced in place while he sized up the chair. The Enforcer slowly lowered himself into a seated position. “We will consider this a break. Breaks are mandatory anyway.”

Rodimus could barely contain himself as Magnus settled into the chair. The blue mech made sure his spinal strut was perfectly aligned, his arms rested along the rests provided. He looked back to Rodimus’ gaze, stiff as a statute. The larger mech nodded and Rodimus chuckled.

Magnus tilted his helm back, straining a little, as Rodimus started forward. His mind was not often on interfacing but slaggit if Rodimus didn’t know how to get him revved up. His air systems hitched as the Prime casually moved to his knees before him.

“Are you gonna do this manually or do I get to pop you?” Rodimus purred as he looked up at Ultra Magnus. He felt the big mech’s energy field shudder.

“Rodimus,” Magnus started quietly, “you know I am… not good at opening manually.” Magnus’ voice dropped a little in embarrassment. He turned his optics away from the alluring sight in his lap for a moment. His mind wandered to Ratchet and the strange and almost sympathetic look the medic had given when Magnus needed to resort to self-stimulation in order to open his panel for a full exam.

“Right, sorry big guy, I forgot. Let me make it up to you.” Rodimus leaned forward without warning and stroked his glossa up the length of Magnus’ interfacing panel as gratuitously as possible.

“You really do not have to make anythin-uuuuhhhh.” Magnus’ voice dissolved into a deep moan as his hands clutched suddenly at the arm rests. “Rodimus…” He managed as his vents kicked back in, immediately in high gear. With a soft click his panel opened. It didn’t take much to get the uptight frame to loosen.

Rodimus could not have smiled wider. He placed his hands on the front of Magnus’ calves and slowly drew them upwards. He curved them delicately over huge patella joints until they found large flat thighs. He gripped the unyielding plating eagerly.

The young Prime leaned forward and breathed out a hot gust of air against the two tightly closed apertures. Moving his optics back up to Magnus’ face with an impish smirk, he stuck out his glossa slowly. He let the tip make contact with the topmost aperture and circled it, knowing Magnus’ spike waited just underneath.

Magnus let his helm fall back. He was so painfully embarrassed when it came to matters of interfacing and by not permitting himself to look at Rodimus he was able to maintain some form of dignity. His dental plates clenched tightly together to hold in another moan.

He fought the urge to pressurize to the best of his ability. He had popped in a shamefully short amount of time and he didn’t want to seem, well, easily aroused. The truth was however that when it came to Rodimus the Enforcer was helpless under the Prime’s fingers… and glossa.

He hissed out a breath through pursed lips, unable to hold back any longer. His spike pressurized slowly and he was… a /large/ mech. His fingers curled and dented the armrests.

Rodimus tilted his helm against Magnus’ right thigh and watched the sizable spike pressurize. He focused his optics on it and hesitated, as he always did. It seemed he was questioning whether the spike would fit into his mouth, seeming to have forgotten that it had fit last time.

He stroked his glossa along the underside of the mostly blue spike. A trail of white condensation in his wake. He enjoyed the warmth of the spike’s dorsal lights on the flat of his glossa. He reached the tip and flicked his glossa over it teasingly.

He shifted himself back and attained a comfortable position. He rested back on his haunches, aft on the tracks above his peds. He parted his lips and took the spike into his mouth. He pressed forward menacingly slow until he knew he could take no more between his lips. There was a good gap of untouched spike remaining at the end of his mouth.

Magnus tightened everything in his body. Every joint, every piston, even his spark seemed to momentarily contract. His fingers curled up and off the arm rests and into tight fists. His vents hissed out a loud gust of air. His patella’s shuddered and turned inward to trap Rodimus between them. He off-lined his optics.

“You—you locked the door, r-right?” He somehow managed even as he was starting to lose all sense of reality to the sensation of Rodimus on his spike.

Rodimus chuckled around the spike in his mouth. He felt Magnus shudder at the sensation.

~You bet.~ He comm.ed privately.

Rodimus tilted his helm up to watch what he could see of Magnus’ face. He loved seeing the big mech break just a little. He especially loved that he was the only one who got to see it.

He pressed the flat of his glossa to the underside of Magnus’ spike. He started his engines with a low purr. His vents kicked open as he held back to keep himself at a low rumble. He could feel the vibrations running through his frame, his glossa, and he knew the sensation went straight to the spike.

Rodimus slid his hands up from Magnus’ thighs until they were splayed on the large mech’s lower abdomen. With his head bowed into Magnus, seated on his knees, arms uplifted, the young Prime almost appeared to be praying to or worshipping the Enforcer.

Magnus’ spinal strut arched and he groaned deeply as a rumble started his engine. He barely resisted the urge to slam a fist into the armrest. His left ped lifted off the ground and canted inwards. 

He onlined his optics just for a moment and glanced down at his lap. He was rewarded with desperate, kneading hands at his stomach and the back of Rodimus’ helm. The lengthy yellow spoiler at the Prime’s back looked like it was vibrating under the suppression of a high power engine.

Rodmius shifted himself slightly and began sliding his hands back down to Magnus’ thighs. His glossa flirted with the sensitive nodes along the underside of the spike, tip flicking and tickling each one. He pursed his lips and created a seal around the base of Magnus’ interfacing array. Then with a rev of his engine as warning, he /swallowed/ around the spike lodged firmly in his mouth.

Magnus’ optics whited out and there was no way to stop the noise which bubbled up from his chest. The sensation of sudden, sucking pressure around his most sensitive nodes sent an electric shock up his spinal array. It seemed like every node along his body had been brushed with the energy in Rodimus’ engine at once.

His hands lifted off the arm rests and hung uselessly as the sensation was ebbed away. As Rodimus began slowly bobbing his helm along his length, Magnus lowered cautious hands to the bright yellow spoiler. His fingers curled around the bottom while his thumb pads gently traced the top seam. His optics powered back on just in time to see a physical shudder pass through the young Prime at the contact.

~You like rules… right?~ Rodimus purred into a private comm. channel. His back arced up slightly to offer more of his spoiler to Magnus. It was a delicate piece of equipment and having such large hands encase it was quite thrilling. He almost rutted it against the thumbs at the seams.

“Y-yes…” Magnus groaned aloud, either forgetting or unable to use a comm. in his state. It earned him a chuckle which tingled up through his spike and ended in a low groan.

~Then no touching.~

Magnus’ optics jumped to meet Rodimus’ as the Prime looked up at him. they were dimmed slightly and Magnus tried to keep his focus on them and not the lips curved around his length.

“No…”

~Touching. You to me. Move your hands.~ Rodimus growled low, watching the twist in Magnus’ lips. The red mech’s core whirred loudly as his spoiler was freed. He had really enjoyed the sensation of Magnus squeezing his spoiler, but he also enjoyed seeing the Enforcer at a loss. He couldn’t help but play to the larger mech’s awkwardness.

No touching. No touching. No touching. It became a mantra in Magnus’ helm as his optics static’ed out once more. Rodimus had swallowed around him again and this time Magnus’ aft came off the chair just slightly. He heard Rodimus shift quickly so as not to choke on the girth.

He considered apologizing but Rodimus chose that moment to rev his engine. Magnus’ mouth fell open in a silent gasp and his fists closed around the armrests. He heard the chair groaning under the strain.

“Rod-rodimus…” Magnus warned, vocal components full of partially cycled air. “Do-do that again an-and I w-will… ooooooh.” Magnus’ words ended in a swallowed moan. His helm tilted back and connected loudly with the head of the chair.

~You’ll what?~ Rodimus purred, even as he let out another roar of his engine. His optics flashed in shock as Magnus’ hips jerked again and this time the young Prime was not fast enough. The head of Magnus’ spike tried to force it’s way down Rodimus’ throat and in response he swallowed again.

Magnus let out a gasp and his optics flared white, every light on his body coming to life as his overload snuck up on him. Everything burned as white hot electricity poured into his every sensory node. His vocal components and the roar of his engines matched pitch and became one long, drawn-out moan.

His spinal strut slowly relaxed and he sunk down into the chair. His chest hitched, and his mouth parted to permit him to cycle air manually. His optics cleared and he looked down.

Rodimus moved to lean on his haunches and brought the back of his hand to his mouth. Optics flickering curiously he wiped at the transfluid that had spilled from the corners of his mouth at Magnus’ rather unannounced overload.

Magnus’ hands were suddenly on Rodimus’ upper arms. The Prime was jerked out of a peaceful musing as Magnus stared at him.

“I—I am so sorry, Rodimus. I… I should have warned you. I cannot believe I just…” His faceplates lit up with hot energon in his embarrassment.

Rodimus gave a chuckle, clearing his exhaust and rubbing at his throat.

“Magnus, it’s ok, really. It wasn’t bad. Plus if I uh… didn’t want that to happen I wouldn’t have gone down there.” The red mech grinned at the look he received. “Really it’s kind of… nice. In a baser instinct kind of way.”

Magnus pulled his hands away as Rodimus moved to stand. The large mech pursed his lips together. Curiosity was not often something he indulged in but… well… There were a lot of things he found himself doing that he’d never done before, all on the count of Rodimus and the Lost Light.

Rodimus turned to walk away and was halted by a hand on his arm again. He turned around curiously to look up at Magnus. He lifted his optic ridges at the expression on his Second In Command’s face.

“Magnus?”

 

“I… I would like to…” Magnus paused, breaking optic contact to look at the floor. “Return the favor, Rodimus.”

Rodimus tilted his helm to one side like an earth canine.

“Return the favor?”

“Of oral stimulation.” Magnus said, though the words felt heavy on his glossa.

“No, I got that I just… You do? I mean, you want to? You don’t have to.” Rodimus smiled softly. He could see the gears in Magnus’ processor working. The honesty was endearing.

Magnus took a slow intake of breath. He was no good with words unless they were practiced, logical and issues of the spark were rarely logical. He decided to play Rodimus’ game for once and use action instead of words.

Magnus took a step forward and clasped his hands around Rodimus’ waist. He tried to swallow his reservations but the grin on the smaller mech’s face made him blush harder. He lifted Rodimus off the ground and turned to lay him on his back on the desk.

Rodimus pushed himself up onto his elbows to glance at Magnus. The Dully Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord stood staring at Rodimus’ codpiece like it was written backwards in a different language. Rodimus chuckled and tilted his helm onto his right pauldren.

“Magnus, it’s not gonna bite you.” He said playfully, smirking.

“I… I know that.” Magnus replied quietly. He met Rodimus’ optics. “I have never done this before.”

“It’s easy. Trust me, you’ll be a natural.” Rodimus shifted to put his peds onto the desk, spreading his thighs and sliding open his interfacing panel with a thought.

Magnus glanced down at the prostrate Prime and his engines hitched. He reached out and splayed his large hands on Rodimus’ inner thighs. He leaned down and heard the bottommost aperture spiral open. He looked up at Rodimus questioningly.

“I’m really more of a valve mech.” Rodimus whispered unabashedly.

“I…”

“Magnus just do what feels natural.” Rodimus’ engine gave a rumble of anticipation as he watched Magnus’ head dip down.

Magnus’ optics watched as a small trickle of transfluid leaked down onto the desk from the open valve in front of him. He could see the calipers working behind pliable walls, twitchy and—Primus help him—inviting. He cautiously stuck out his glossa.

Rodimus purred out a long, low ‘ooooh’ at first contact. His optics flickered gently off-line and he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. He let his helm dip backwards. His fingers tickled at the desk top as Magnus lapped at his valve opening.

Magnus did not know what he had been expecting but the taste of transfluid on his glossa was pleasant, almost sweet, tangy. He drew the tip of his glossa along the edge of the valve until it slipped inward. He worried for a second that he might have made a mistake but the reaction assured him he had not. Rodimus took a sharp intake of breath and Magnus felt a small hand on his own.

“Mmmmhmmmm,” Rodimus moaned and moved to lay flat on his back. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Magnus’ hand encouragingly. His legs shook slightly as he felt the curious glossa slip into him again. He reached up to cover his face as the tip ran up and along the nodes along his valve ceiling.

Magnus pressed onto the quaking thighs as they shuddered inward. He lapped and curled his glossa, pleasantly surprised by the small jolts of electricity sent into his mouth from each cluster of nodes. On a whim he stuck his glossa in as far as he could and lifted the whole cable to press along the entirety of the valve ceiling.

Rodimus gasped in a clutch of cold air, his hips stuttering against Magnus’ ministrations. He moaned, helm rolling from side to side as Magnus repeated the action a second and third time. He was too preoccupied with the tingling of nodes to notice Magnus expertly catch the chair with a ped and draw it in.

Magnus slowly lowered himself into the chair, removing his glossa from the valve to blow a huff of hot air against it. He felt the red mech quiver in his hands as he slid them off Rodimus’ thighs and around to his aft. He pulled Rodimus towards the end of the desk, lifting the Prime’s aft off the surface in the process.

“Ahhh, Magnus.” Rodimus mewled as he slid down the desk. His legs found space along the armrests of the chair. Magnus’ large hands on his aft felt almost as good as the glossa in his valve. A thought that was almost immediately proved wrong as the offending oral cable brushed nodes again.

Magnus powered on his optics and glanced up over the arch of Rodimus’ stomach to where he could barely make out the Prime’s face. Experimentally the larger mech pushed a roar out of his engine. He was rewarded greatly as Rodimus shot up to his elbows, blue optics flared, as he gaped down at the Enforcer.

~Good?~ Magnus questioned and, if Rodimus wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of mischief in the tone.

“Very good. Y-you sure you’ve n-never done this b-before?” Rodimus leaned back down and covered his face with his arms. He squirmed under the attention, engine hitching over and over. He off-lined his optics and let out a soft chuckle.

Magnus lifted his helm from between Rodimus’ flame colored thighs.

“You are laughing. Did I do something wrong?”

Rodimus lowered his arms and glanced down. His engine turned over noisily at the sight of Magnus leaning over his valve.

“That… I think that’s a universally acknowledged impossibility. Keep going.” Rodimus reached down and put a hand on Magnus’ helm.

Magnus lowered his head and returned dutifully to his task. He curled his glossa and flicked it against the ceiling nodes. This garnered him a beautiful response. Rodimus’ hips bucked up and he let out a long, sharp moan. The fingers on Magnus’ helm curled. He repeated the action.

“Ya-ah!” Rodimus shouted, unable to stop his body from practically convulsing. He gripped tightly at Magnus’ helm with one hand and lifted the other to his face. He shoved two knuckles into his mouth and bit down.

~M-magnus… Magnus!~ Rodimus groaned low around his fingers as overload spasmed through him. He was hazily aware of Magnus’ glossa still working in and out of him as the Prime rode out the waves of pleasure.

Magnus slowly withdrew and set Rodimus’ aft on the desk. He sat up and rubbed a thumb under his lips. He had not expected such an enthusiastic release. He glanced up as he heard a rather loud thud.

Rodimus sighed deeply as his body relaxed against the desk.

“Ok, all right. You bought at least a few days of uninterrupted work.” Rodimus lifted a hand and waved dismissively. “Go ahead, bury yourself in datapads.”

“I would,” Magnus said softly as he lifted an optic ridge, “but you’re on top of most of them.”


End file.
